Page 62 of Until Forever Falls

“Not everyone had to go through the kind of crap we did.”

I think about the nights we’d sit in my truck after everything went down, both of us too messed up to say much, but too afraid to be alone. I’d always thought Colt was holding it together better than me, but maybe I was wrong.

The gym doors creak open, and a new wave of people filter in. I spot some old teammates, a couple of girls from visual arts, even the janitor who used to let us sneak onto the football field after hours. The familiarity is comforting, but it also feels like a reminder of what’s missing.

“Crazy how many people showed,” Colt says, his voice quieter now.

“Guess some people like nostalgia.” I lean against the wall, shoving a hand into my pocket. “Maybe they want to prove something—to themselves, to everybody else. Show off their perfect lives or some shit.”

“Not everybody’s here to flex, man.” Colt’s tone is surprisingly sharper now. “Some of us are just trying to make peace with the past.”

I glance over at him, realizing I’ve hit a nerve. “Fair enough,” I say, letting the topic drop.

We fall silent again, the hum of voices filling the space between us. I want to say more, to dig into the things we don’t actually talk about, but this isn’t the time. Not here, surrounded by ghosts of who we used to be.

Chloe’s voice comes through the speakers, still high-pitched and unchanged. The projector flickers to life on the wall, casting a bright square of light over the gym. A slideshow starts, looping through photos that feel oddly distant and too close at the same time. A few of these were mine—pictures I took when we still thought everything mattered more than it actually did.

There we all are. Six of us. Me, Dylan, Colt, Beckett, Miles, and Graham. A mess of arms and heads crammed together in a group shot, each of us leaning into the other, acting like we had everything figured out. I can almost remember the spring air in that picture, that weird, lighthearted feeling that everything would stay the same forever.

Colt lets out a short, humorless exhale. “Look at us. A bunch of idiots thinking we knew anything about life.”

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out, his eyes narrowing as he scans the message. The words are brief but the change in him is instant. “Looks like I’m off the hook,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “The hospital’s short handed, I’ve gotta go.”

He stands a little straighter, dusting off his shirt, his expression hardening into that no-nonsense look he always gets when duty calls. No time for distractions. Not now.

I agree, unsure of what to really say. Colt’s been at the hospital for some time now, deep into his surgical residency. Something about seeing things firsthand pushed him to do more, to become more. But it’s also left him worn down.

His eyes flick back to the slideshow, the group photo still displayed on the screen. “Remember those letters we had to write to ourselves senior year, to open today? We thought we had everything ahead of us, like the world was ours for the taking. I guess I wasn’t ready for how hard life would hit. When you grab yours, just…throw mine out, okay?”

Without saying anything else, Colt turns and walks toward the exit. His silhouette disappearing into the crowd, leaving me alone with nothing but the image on the screen.

I stare at the six of us, full of life, hopeful, and completely unaware of how quickly things could fall apart. A wave of realization hits me. We’ve all made our mistakes, lost chances, and come out the other side with scars we never saw coming.

Maybe it’s time to figure out how to stop running from thingsI’vebeen avoiding. Not just for myself, but for the people I still care about—people like Dylan and Colt. To try and make things right, not because I owe it to myself but because it feels like something I owe them—and maybe everyone else who’s still here, still fighting, still trying to piece what we lost back together.

23

Dylan

Then

A little more than a month ago, Brooks did something that left me dumbstruck. He led me back to the old church, the one we’d always seek out when we wanted to vanish from everything else. But he didn’t stop at the usual. This time, he bent reality around it, making it something strange and beautiful.

When we stepped inside, everything felt the same—the familiar dusty smell, the faint traces of dried paint. But then I saw the walls. They were covered in photos. Pictures of us laughing, talking, and just being together. Among the collection, one photo pulled me in. It was from a night after practice, when the guys were all around me, but my gaze never fully left him. It was as though everyone else was invisible, and he became the only thing in focus.

And then, just like it was the most casual thing in the world, he asked me to prom. No big speech. Just him, showing up for me exactly as he always does. I don’t think I even let him finish before I said yes.

Now, I’m in Beckett’s room, standing in front of his full-length mirror while we get ready. He’s fiddling with his bowtie like it’s actively plotting against him, and I’m trying to figure out if my dress is too much.

The burgundy fabric hugs me in a way I’m not used to. The back dips low, leaving a lot more skin exposed than I’d normally be comfortable with. It’s definitely a bolder choice than anything I’d usually go for, but lately, I’ve been trying to step out of my comfort zone.

Brooks has a way of making me feel like I can pull anything off.

Beckett finally gives up on the tie and looks over at me. “Stop overthinking. You look amazing. Brooks is gonna lose his mind when he sees you.”

I laugh under my breath but don’t argue. Brooks has a natural way of making me feel like I don’t have to keep my guard up all the time, like I can just go for it. The dress, saying yes to prom, all of it—it’s because of him.

“Thanks,” I say, smoothing the fabric one last time. “You’re not looking too bad yourself, KitKat.”

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